the amnesiac false princess and co
by noizssexappeal
Summary: Frey/Various. Will include some femslash pairings. (Most recent chapter is Frey/Dolce)
1. her brave knight

she is ethereal and precious and a princess except _not really._

**i. **

Say what you will, but Frey is anything but a damsel in distress. Not that there's anything particularly wrong with being a damsel in distress, but...after having Kiel read story after story of princesses locked in towers, sought after by vengeful witches, only to be saved by a heroic prince, the concept becomes rather lackluster, you might say.

Frey is a new breed of princess. Alright, and perhaps that stems from the fact that she is, _technically_, not indeed an actual princess. Probably? She has no recollection of her own past, so there is a tiny, miniscule possibility she does come from royalty, but from what Forte has seen of her general behavior, it doesn't seem very likely. At all.

**ii.**

"_Forteeeeeeeeee_."

The Dragon Knight stumbles a bit as a considerable amount of weight is suddenly thrust upon her shoulders. She doesn't have to look, she never has to look to know when Selphia's acting princess is acting entirely like an eight year old. "Miss Frey," she says, and it sounds less like a warning than she would have liked. Perhaps, she's a little too accustom. She feels her cheeks redden anyway.

"I brought cake. I made it myself," Frey chirps and continues clinging onto Forte's back. "Onwards to your home, brave knight. There is cake to be had!"

"Don't you have royal duties to attend to this morning?" Cake; Forte's one weakness. Aside from Kiel, of course, but no one knows about either...except for Frey. Probably... There had better _actually_ be cake.

"I took care of it," the princess declares dismissively. "Also, Vishnal decided his butler training has had a distinct lack of agricultural education up to this particular day, so I graciously allowed him to water my crops."

Forte almost sighs, whether from the added weight of one whole princess in addition to her already heavy armor, or from the pure smug satisfaction dripping from Frey's words, she doesn't know. "How kind of you."

They're almost home bound and Frey presses her cheek to Forte's shoulder timidly. "I know, right?"

They pass Porcoline, who gazes at them with starry eyes as they pass. Frey waves at him and a scowling Dylas who seems to be completely immersed in his fishing and ignores her feeble attempt.

"Land Ho!" Frey remarks a bit too loudly, resembling a certain butterfly-human a bit _too _vividly, and hops off the knight's shoulders once they reach the small house. She pauses at the door, as if the idea of barging into someone's home uninvited just occurred to her. As if she hasn't done it a million times before. "Is Kiel home?" inquires Frey, opening the door and inviting herself on in anyway.

What was the point in hesitating then, exactly?

"No," Forte replies, shutting the door behind her. "He said he was going to be locked up in the castle's library today. Why?"

"I thought maybe we could all read something while enjoying some cake," Frey remarks, looking slightly disappointed. "Whatever. Do you think he'll mind if we borrow one of his books?"

Forte purses her lips. Not if it's _you_, he won't. The concept of her brother harboring a crush on the acting Selphian princess was still a little difficult for Forte to accept. Her brother was sweet, and maybe a bit of a loudmouth, but...he was still a good kid. A kid. As in, not old enough to date or get married or anything in between just yet. "Probably not," Forte finally offers after some thought.

To be expected, Frey is already rummaging through the bookshelf in his bedroom. Forte often worries about how familiar the princess makes herself with everyone's private belongings. It_ is _a reasonable thing to be worried about, after all.

"Oooh. The princess on this one sorta looks like you, Forte!"

The knight can feel her cheeks heat up at the suggestion. She strolls over to peer at the cover of the book and her lightly dusted pink cheeks turn crimson. "T-That's ridiculous. She and I have nothing in common."

"Not true," Frey says, all singsong like. "You're both blonde and have really long hair. And you're both super cute," she teases, and Forte thinks she might pass out. Is it possible to be this embarrassed all at once?

Forte snatches the book from the princess' hands and shoves it back into the shelf with inhuman speed. "Y-You promised cake, didn't you?"

"Ah," Frey smiles, sliding her backpack off her shoulder with ease. She rummages through it for a few moments before pulling out a container. "It's chocolate. Too bad that Kiel isn't here, it's his favorite, right?"

"Yes," Forte agrees, coughing slightly. For a moment, she really does feel bad for leaving Kiel out, because he truly does love chocolate cake with passion that shouldn't be possible. "There's always next time, however."

"Yeah!"

**iii.**

"Do you need to stop and rest?"

"No. Let's move forward."

"...Forte," Frey says, and it is one of those rare moments when true concern slips onto the princess' face. She doesn't allow it to be shown often, unless it's where Venti is concerned, but it is there all the same and Forte can't help but feel touched. "Let's take a break and eat, okay?"

"I said I was fine," Forte tries to argue but it's no use. She is exhausted and they both can tell. It's a little more than mortifying for her, a self proclaimed knight, to not be able to keep up with the self proclaimed princess.

Frey settles herself on a stump and goes through her backpack wordlessly. She pulls out two wrapped rice balls and hands one to Forte. "Eat up!"

"Thank you." Forte ducks her head, attempting to hide her weary expression. How embarrassing...

"No need to thank me. _I _should be the one thanking_ you_, brave knight," Frey smiles, mint eyes crinkling with the gesture and it sort of makes Forte's chest hurt. "Nobody else would be half as willing to come out and hunt some monsters with me this early in the morning."

Forte averts her gaze. "...It's simply my job. I am Selphia's Dragon Knight, after all. If I can't accompany the princess on her travels, what use am I?"

"Hm," hums Frey, as her eyes trail the others face, taking in every line and crevice carefully as if trying to apply them to memory. "I'm not really a princess, though."

"You are Selphia's act-"

"Nope," Frey smacks her lips and lifts her eyes to the sky. "Still not a princess. Not a real one. Not a fictional one, like in Kiel's books. I'm not a princess at all."

"Miss Fr - "

"You know," the mint haired young woman says lightly. "Ever since I started living here and Arthur relayed his royal duties over to me, I've had a lot of time to think about what being a princess really means and if I'm up to it."

"...And?"

"I don't really care."

"Huh!?"

Frey smiles, but it's a tight one. Forced. "Let me rephrase that. I mean, I care about everyone here. I love this place. So, _so_ much. I wouldn't have gone to the Forest of Beginnings if I didn't...But, I mean. I think I'd still feel the same if I were living here as just a normal villager instead of the 'acting princess', you know? I'd still do everything the same. Princess is just a title that I'm still trying to figure out if I deserve. Seems kinda pointless, doesn't it? Regardless of if I'm worthy or not, it's mine. This world is weird."

"I...I understand," Forte says, although she doesn't really. Frey seems to be a bit of enigma at times.

"Great. So just call me Frey from now on, okay?"

"U-Um. Alright, as you wish." Forte has to forcefully bite her tongue from letting the cursed word slip out.

_You are more of a princess than you'll ever know, Miss Frey. _

* * *

**( a/n ) **first up, fortfrey bc they are cuter than anything in this world. next, might be dylas bc stay golden bronyboy am i right


	2. the girl

if you were to leave and fulfill someone else's dreams, i think i might totally be lost.

(_the girl_, city and colour)

**i.**

Dylas finds himself wondering, not for the first time, if it is truly possible for one person to be so _sun-like_. Frey shines, from her mint eyes perpetually alight with precise and equal amounts of cheerfulness and mischief, right down to her glowing skin always peering out from the jagged edges of her usual attire.

She's sort of overwhelming.

He's sort of unsure whether he likes that or not.

**ii.**

They kiss and it's clumsy and probably too awkward to count as the magical first kiss that they'd both been dreaming of to start off their_ thing. _

"Sorry," Dylas mutters when she pulls away. He doesn't have to look to know she's smiling at him, as if he's something she's lucky to have in her sight and eating out of the palm of her stupidly tiny hands.

"Don't apologize, that was great!"

He searches her expression for any hint of lie. Nothing. "That was the most awkward thing ever, don't lie, idiot."

Suddenly her face turns crimson. "Well, I mean. It's not like either of us have had much practice! You were a horse for, like, a couple of centuries and I don't even remember if I've even kissed anyone before." She is blabbering and evidently a bundle of nerves and he can't help but smirk at the unusual show of insecurity.

"Shut up," he says, turning his head so she can't catch his smile.

"Don't laugh at me, jerkface!" Frey pokes at his ears and he squirms at the sensation before turning to halfheartedly glare at her. Her offended expression softens and she is sunlight once again. "You're so cute. Wanna try again?"

"What?! How can you say...things like that so easily?!"

Frey shrugs and her smile illuminates her bedroom even more, even with the pretty rays of pink sun peeking through the windows. "It's easy when I'm around you, _darling_."

"Shut up."

"_Make me_~" she sings, and Dylas thinks maybe she's been hanging around Porcoline too much lately.

He presses his mouth harshly to hers for a brief moment and she stills. They stay like that for a second or two and then she's moving her lips against his and it is by no means perfect but Dylas really can't find it in himself to care. He holds her closer.

**iii. **

"I love you," she says and like every time before, he can _just tell _she means it with everything she's got. The acting princess of Selphia does nothing halfheartedly, and least of all, love.

"Yeah, um, same."

And it's been bothering him for weeks now, but, for some reason he just can't say it in return. Still, however, Frey beams like she's just been given the world. That thing she always does around him, and while he usually adores it, it just sort of makes his chest ache now.

There's something that's not right with this picture.

They are in perfect orbit around each other. She is the calm that tames his own stormy personality and he'd like to think he brings out a somewhat peaceful side to her as well when she gets too anxious. They would do anything for each other and everyone knows it and nothing _seems_ wrong exactly but there's something missing.

It takes him a while, to be sure, but it finally dawns on him as a result of a dream of Frey dressed in all white.

* * *

**( a/n ) "**yeah um same" get the heck outta here you unbelievable dork, go back to the stables

i don't know who i'm going to write next so if you have suggestions feel free to leave them, can be bachelors or bachelorettes or even just villagers idk i'll write frey/porcoline if you want i'm down i'm ready


	3. musings of a lionheart

translation;

the act or process of changing something from one form to another

**i. **

They meet and admittedly his first impression of her is that she is similar to a blank page; much like the new yet strangely familiar world that he's been thrown back into. It's a bit of a blur from there. He starts translating old scripts for Arthur, the real prince, and starts attempting to translate the foreign concept of the fake princess with wide eyes and a dangerously brave heart just hanging on the outside of her sleeve into something comprehensible.

**ii. **

She _is_ a blank page, he finally comes to understand.

Her memories have been ripped from her and she has no recollection of anything before, apparently, landing straight into Ventuswill's literal palm. From there, it's just been battle after battle and Leon has no qualms admitting that while this young woman is far from the ideal princess, she certainly has the bravery and will of one. It's commendable, really.

However, that isn't going to stop him from aiming to achieve that prettily pink blush that appears whenever he says something ever so slightly suggestive, of course.

**iii. **

When they start..._seeing_ each other (Frey calls it dating; Leon calls it courting, and they've miraculously learned to agree to disagree.) it becomes a routine of sorts for them to meet up in the late night by the lake and simply talk.

Yes, it gets in the way of her princessly duties, much to the dismay of her ever zany crew of butlers, but it's something they both need.

Perhaps, for her, it's a case of reassurance that she isn't alone anymore, having to hide all of Venti's secrets from the villagers and carrying the burden all by herself. For Leon, however, it's more of a wake up call. A sort of confirmation that this isn't all a dream and he isn't going to wake up back in Leon Karnak one day, still a guardian. Still alone. Still uncertain of Ventuswill's well being.

"Hey," Frey mutters softly, eying him curiously, and in the moonlight her eyes look almost translucent. "What are you thinking about?"

He must have been making a face again. It probably should have never gotten this far, he thinks, to the point where she can read him like an open book just by his expressions. "Things," he replies ambiguously and it's her turn to make a face.

"Seriously?" she groans, falling onto her back to, presumably, get a better look at the stars gathering in the night sky. "You never tell me anything."

"You're pouting."

"Am not."

"Yes you are, I can see you."

She rolls over to turn her back to him and he simply can't resist, regardless of how melancholy his previous thoughts had been just minutes ago. "Alright, this view is much better."

Frey snorts. "You're ridiculous."

"As are you."

"Yeah, I guess," she remarks, remaining completely turned away. There's a few moments of content silence until, "Um, Leon?"

He stares at the back of her head, eyes trailing the length of her long strands of hair. "Mmm?"

Finally, she faces him again and props herself onto her elbow, looking worryingly serious. "Do you..." Frey falls back, palms covering her quickly reddening face. "Never mind."

"What?"

"I said never mind. That means you have to forget about it, okay?"

Leon's lips shape themselves into a firm, thin line. "Tell me. Or else."

"Or else _what_?"

"I will use force."

"F-Force? What are you talking about!?"

"I will tickle you, Frey. I will tickle you until you spill the proverbial beans."

"Yeah ri - _LEON_!"

Leon smirks as Frey fidgets beneath his grasp, giggling and looking downright furious all at once. Quite the sight, really. "Are you ready to sing, little bird?"

"Fine, fine! Just s-stop!"

He backs up, respectively, and allows her time to collect herself. Her cheeks are flushed from her laughter and while her lips are pulled down into an ugly little scowl, somehow he still thinks she's rather lovely. "Mmm? So, what was it you wanted to say before?"

"Um." Frey's face colors all over again. Interesting. "This, um. This isn't me trying to _hint _at anything, or something like that, okay?" She stares at him expectantly until he nods in eager understanding. "It's just, I kind of wondered if you ever thought about us down the line. _Way_ down the line."

Leon simply stares.

"See," Frey ducks her head in embarrassment. "Now this is weird, really weird. Sorry, that was stupid."

The Dragon Priest shakes his head, attempting to clear his current thought process. "Well...I can't say that I have - "

"Oh. That's, um, that's okay!"

"Oh! So, now the little bird won't stop singing long enough to let me properly reply. Cute," Leon grins as Frey narrows her eyes. "As I was saying... I can't say that I have,_ but _that's mostly due to the fact that I'm still trying to comprehend that this is my reality and not some sort of vivid dream."

"Oh," she remarks softly.

"Oh," echoes Leon mockingly.

Frey smiles slightly, sitting up completely now, all signs of any contempt gone. As she claps her hands together, she chirps, "_So _if I proposed right now - "

"What!?" His reply sounds less like actual words and more like the indecipherable language of a frazzled Woolie.

"Gotcha," and she laughs and he laughs (albeit nervously) and another night is lost but not wasted.

* * *

**( a/n ) ** i love leon with my whole soul but he's pretty tough for me to write because his humor is tricky and i don't write flirty characters that well but i hope i did him some sort of justice for you maybe perhaps


	4. soulmate

pretty **major story spoilers** here, just a heads up! they are vague but still very much there

* * *

and he's breathing out his thank yous into empty space for her undying and misplaced faith in him; as if she'll reach out in a dream and catch them

**i.**

She talks about soulmates to him, all starry eyed and sounding completely delusional to his practical and becoming increasingly jaded self. But, she speaks with such sincerity that sometimes he almost finds himself wanting to believe in the concept, in her.

However, even in these rare moments, the idea of one person, in a world full of too many to count, being made simply for him is preposterous.

Besides, this world is far too ugly for such a pure and romanticized idea to have any shred of truth to it, honestly.

**ii. **

"Do you still believe in all that destiny crap?"

"Yes, I still believe in all that destiny crap," Frey's voice takes on a deeper, mocking tone in what Doug assumes to be a terrible imitation of his own voice. They're sitting on the steps just outside the town square and trying hard not to think too much about what the future might hold. Well, _he _is, anyway.

He isn't really even sure why she's here with him, or why she won't react like he's constantly worrying and expecting her to. Like, one day she's just going to explode and call him a traitorous bastard and start slicing at him with her semi-lethal duel blades.

Doug gives her a sidelong glance, warily. It could happen now. Like, this minute exactly. Except it doesn't and he knows it's stupid but he can't stop thinking about how abnormal her reaction to everything thus far has been. "Are you even real," he deadpans and she manages a carefree sort of laugh. It's not a bad sound.

But his words hold a different meaning than what he's sure that she assumes they mean.

Talk of soulmates aside, Frey's idealist views of this (potentially terrible) world and the (potentially terrible) people in it both worry him and give him hope all at once.

**iii.**

She fights for him, in more ways than one, and one _really _would have been enough but Frey predictably has no concept of actual limits and that's just that.

The princess shows up at his door one night, dead leaves poking out of her messy, frizzled hair and dirt and _that better not be blood _dried to her face near shallow scratches that'll probably heal by the morning but still. She looks like a complete mess. She looks like someone who has been diligently fighting off every rogue Sech soldier who is dumb enough to try and invade her precious town. It's then, not for the first time, she starts to look like someone he doesn't deserve to look in the eye.

"...Frey." Doug sighs.

"I look a lot worse than I feel. Promise," she smiles sweetly, and that doesn't lessen the ever building guilt in his gut whatsoever.

She's always telling him that it's over now and that there's nothing left for him to feel accountable for, but clearly, that's not true at all.

"You're hurt," he croaks, all hoarse and _no _he's not going to cry just because the girl he's probably in the stupid impossible soulmate kind of love with is fixing all of his past mistakes singlehandedly. He straightens up his slackened posture, as though that'll rid him of every slight bit of emotion. "Get inside, idiot. You can wash upstairs."

And he tends to her wounds, and _no _they aren't as bad as he had thought, but they're still there and that's plenty enough reason for him to be upset, alright? That stomach turning sense of responsibility does not cease, even as he runs his fingers softly through her hair, trying to pull out every last leaf.

It doesn't give, even when he brushes one of his grandmother's old combs through her tangled knots, attempting to be as thorough yet gentle as he can.

It only lessens when she finally plants a chaste kiss on his nose, and her hands on his shoulders, because it's as though she can tell he's about to be as _not steady _as they come and she's ready to be the balance that keeps him upright and tall.

* * *

**( a/n )** petition to change doug's name to _actual spoiler alert_

also venti's next for sure, i know that request came first but i'm still trying to decide whether i want dragon!venti fluff or human!venti shenanigans hm (and thank you for your super kind review about the leon chapter it made me feel loads better & more comfortable about writing him!)


	5. constant conversations

but you never leave, never

(_constant conversations_, passion pit)

**i.**

Frey wakes, more or less, to a heart attack - or at least something close to one - all because there are a pair of unfamiliar blue-green eyes peering at her from beneath an uneven veil of shortly cropped silver hair. She reaches for the closest thing to her; her diary and swings it unthinkingly at the stranger.

"_GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT_! I don't know - " _swing_ "_who_ you are" - _swing harder _- "but - ! I assure you I have a league of lethal butlers that'll whoop your rear into the next century if you even try and lay a hand on me! _I'm a princess_!" Swing Harder Two, the long awaited sequel to the classic Swing Hard. It's sufficiently ineffective.

The diary is swiftly snatched from her grasp and Frey squeals. "How you've survived up to this point is baffling to me, but hey, who's complaining?" This silver haired stranger tosses the notebook over her shoulder and stares Frey dead in the eye. "_I _was the one who made you princess after all."

"Wh - _Venti_?!" Frey gapes, because yes, the voice does miraculously sound familiar. But this doesn't make sense! Unless Venti somehow became a magical girl over night, like in one of Kiel's books that is. She lowers herself from her lunging position to sit on her knees, clutching a hand to her heavily pounding chest. "What's going on?"

"If you would have let me explain before going completely nutso on me," and that_ look_, that sharp sort of no funny business look is so Ventuswill that it almost hurts. "This situation could have been avoided entirely. But,_ no_," her voice trills shrewdly. "'_I'm a princess_! Honestly? More like an idiot."

"Hey," Frey remarks defensively. "I thought you were like an assassin or something." She runs a hand through her long, loose mint hair thoughtfully. "Also I was half asleep, so. You should have known better than to wake me up like that!"

"An assassin that you were going to fight off by using your journal. I see. Your logic never fails to amaze me, but, _anyway _I'd say we have bigger fish to fry." And with a wave of her hand, Venti gestures to her human form with a quirked eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah. I can see that. What...happened? Why are you not all, um, dragon-y?"

Ventuswill sighs, clearly unimpressed and crosses her arms firmly. "Well, there was some sort of mix up..._obviously_. I just don't know what exactly caused the change."

"Have you gone to see anyone else? Like the guardians, maybe?"

"No. That would be..." Venti's cheeks turn pink. "Embarrassing. I don't want them to see me like this!"

Frey's lips turn upward at the unexpectedly cute sight. "But don't you think if anyone is going to know anything it would be the Dragon Priest himself...? Or even the others. They all have experience with transforming from monster to hum - "

"Are you calling my usual self a monster?!"

"Well. You_ are _a dragon."

"_I'm a god_!"

"A god who also happens to be a dragon!"

"Ugh! You're lucky my powers aren't working right while I'm in this state, otherwise I'd have knocked you to your knees for that comment!" Venti stomps her foot and places both hands on her hips in a show of true childishness.

"Alright," Frey reasons, ducking to avoid the icy glower of the _(former?) _dragon, whilst standing to brush out the wrinkles in her nightdress. "Us arguing isn't going to help anything. What we should be thinking of is how we're going to get you back to normal if this isn't just a temporary thing. I still think the guardians are our best bet, but I might know of someone else who can help."

**ii.**

"Would you like me to test your compatibility with Ventuswill?"

"_No,_" Frey manages through gritted teeth, her small hands clenching and unclenching as the itch to reach for her long sword grows nearly unbearable. "I want you to tell me how to fix this! You're a fortune teller, so shed some light! Enlighten me_._ Please."

"Hmm...Yes, I can see it."

"See what?!" Venti demands, eyes flashing with impatience.

"The lines... They are clear as day to me now. Aha, I see..." The fortune teller smiles cryptically, which only further serves to infuriate both the dragon and princess, respectively. Just as the tension in the air grows so thick it could probably be cut, the fortune teller claps their hands together happily. "Your compatibility rating is a perfectly reliable 89!"

"..."

"..."

"Just 89?" Frey implores incredulously. "I've been putting up with all of this dragon's schemes for seasons now and all I get is an_ 89_?"

She is swiftly swatted in the back of the head by an entirely unamused Native Dragon.

**iii. **

"That was helpful. _Not_."

"Okay, but really, that was completely not my fault," Frey says meekly, kicking some stray branches out of her path. She occasionally has to grab Venti's arm and steady her because she's really not used to human legs, like at all. Simply getting her to the fortune teller had been an adventure in itself. "I didn't know they were a total matchmaker fraud. All they ever told me before was that they could read fortunes and other mystical junk."

"And you believed them."

Frey doesn't need to look to know Venti is throwing her a skeptical glare. "Well, after having met a talking dragon that inducted me as royalty, I decided not to make such hasty assumptions."

"Hmph."

"Don't worry, we'll fix this, okay? I'll go see if Arthur has any old scripts for trade that have any useful information and if there's nothing, I'll go see Leon by myself."

"..." Venti turns her face, away from the prying eyes of the Selphian princess. "Why..." The Native Dragon pauses, eyes quickly darting to the ground. "Why do you always listen to me? Why do you never question the stuff I ask you to do? It's stupid. Humans are stupid. Learn to be self serving for once, idiot."

This stops Frey in her tracks, and she reaches out to pull Venti back by the arm. She lets out a small noise of surprise.

"Hey," she remarks softly, gazing into startled blue-green eyes. "This isn't just about me, is it? I thought you were finally starting to get it. The guardians are all fine and happy now, so stop worrying about having people worrying about you, okay?"

Venti's face goes an unnatural shade of vibrant pink. "...Shut up. That's not what I meant at all!"

"Oh really?"

"Yes! I just wanted to call you an idiot because you are one!"

* * *

**( a/n ) **i tried for less angst but let's be real it always finds it's place somewhere sorry

i'm not really sure what venti's actual compatibility rate is (if you can even check with her in your party at all) but i would imagine it's pretty high up there after all the stuff the MC does for her and vice versa


	6. tease

meg's adoptive father has got it goin' on

**i. **

It starts with teasing; it's not meant to be anything serious_, at all_, because while Porcoline is many things (adoptive father to probably too many adolescents, _sliiiiight_ glutton, and master chef) a creepy old pervert is_ not _one of them. So, every time he flashes a wide smile in Frey's direction and she returns it ever warily, it feels like nothing more than a game that they both play to quell their own boredom.

**ii.**

"I love you," she says, one day, with such a stern and serious expression that Porcoline has to grab the wall behind him just to steady himself. This was the absolute last thing he was ever expecting from the _not-quite-shy _but _not-quite-bold either _Selphian princess.

In the collective silence that lasts for all of about three minutes, she places her hands on her hips and purses her lips, and stares at him expectantly. Well. What, exactly, is he supposed to say to _that_?

"R-Really?"

She simply stares in response - _but_ there's a crack in her serious demeanor, a very slight twitch of the lips that tells him she's fighting back a gigantic, smug grin. Porcoline thinks that perhaps she should know that when it comes to this little game, he's got worlds' worth of more experience, and that victory will not come so easily. (Whatever victory in this case may mean.)

"Alright then, lovely~ Let's get married! Right now~"

"Alright," she retorts quickly, though her eyes are no longer alight with mischief and he can tell he ruined her feeble attempt at catching_ him _off guard for once. "I've always wanted a Spring wedding."

"Perfect~" He chimes, smiling widely at her. "Illuminata must have some fresh cut flowers you can wear in your hair, you'll look so - "

"What the hell," Dylas appears just in time, and not a second too late, with his usual scowl on his face. He strides over in three large steps and smacks the hat right off Porcoline's head. "Stop being creepy," his hazel eyes dart over to Frey. "That goes for you too. You're both such weirdos. Do you have to do this every day?"

"It's not every day," Frey replies indignantly, sticking her nose up in the air stubbornly. "Besides, I think I've finally got ahead - "

"No," Porcoline shakes his head, gravely. "It was a nice attempt, but there's no fooling me, lovely~"

Frey grimaces, crossing her arms over her chestplate armor. "Well," she says, appearing quite dismayed before her expression lights up in it's usual cheerfulness. She heads towards the front door of the restaurant, practically skipping, and before leaving she turns to the two with a wide grin. "I'll just have to try again when you least expect it! See you - Well, you won't know when! "

The door shuts with a resounding thud and Dylas sighs while Porco laughs giddily.

"I really hate you both."

**iii.**

"Frey De Sainte-Coquille has quite the ring to it, hm?"

"Quite," Frey mutters sarcastically, hard at work pulling weeds and disposing of them into her compost bin. Porco seems more than happy to sit idly by and observe, making comments not dissimilar to that every so often. Finally, unable to take it anymore, Frey sits up on her knees and stares at the chef expectantly. "Okay, seriously. What do you want?"

"Your hand in marriage would be nice~"

"Ah, is that _all_?"

"Someone's a bit snappy today. Did something happen, lovely?"

Frey blows a stray strand of hair in her eyes away, a rather disgruntled expression overtaking her usually gentle features. "No. Nothing."

"It doesn't sound like _nothing_," Porco chirps, in his usual exaggerated tone because who knows what would happen, should he ever sound truly genuine and concerned? Horrible, unspeakable events might occur. Best not to test it.

The princess lets out a strangled sort of sound; the kind that can only be induced by truly astounding amounts of frustration. She pulls at one of her own pigtails, irritably. "I guess I'm just stressed, okay? Are you happy?"

"Hmmmm~ Not at all, actually. That simply won't do."

"_'That simply won't do' _Can you cut it out for, like, a second? It's taking all of the energy I've got left not to stuff your mouth with that dumb hat of yo - _!_"

With speed Frey didn't think was humanly possible, Porcoline strolls over to her and grabs her chin gently, crystalline sapphire eyes peering mischievously into her own. She can feel his breath on her face, which admittedly, causes her to flush in what she likes to think of as indignance.

"What are you doing," she deadpans, all red in the face and narrowed eyes.

"This game of ours is driving me wild. I don't think I can handle it anymore, Frey~"

Frey gulps, because he looks really, really serious considering the situation that they're in and this is just part of the game right? _Right?! _

"_But_ - !"

And then there's something soft pressing against her lips, and it takes a long while to get the courage to open her eyes to investigate'; to see_ him _watching her with an infinitely amused expression as he drops the strawberry that he'd been holding to her lips.

It takes a considerably less amount of time for her to unsheathe her sword and start chasing him around Selphia, all the while screaming "_I'll destroy you, Porcoline_!"

* * *

**(a/n) **i said i'd do it and i did. next will be official qt3.14 kiel


	7. sweetly

he is no good at all with weapons and, admittedly, kind of a coward at times but she's a warrior through and through and there's absolutely no rule that says a princess can't fall in love with a big-mouthed bookworm (he's checked. twice.)

**i.**

Frey is sweet, and that's an irrefutable fact. She goes out of her way, every single day without a single failure yet, to put a smile on someone's face. Whether by bringing them a simple but considerate gift, or in Kiel's very special case, by merely existing.

Kiel likes sweet things.

(and doesn't even try to keep it a secret unlike _some people_.)

So, it's only natural that the blond bookworm becomes somewhat fond of the somewhat oblivious sweet princess in a somewhat ridiculously short amount of time. But, that's just how this story goes, alright?

It's not leather bound or covered in dust. It's not even written down on paper, really. It just sits there; lingering in the air and in the fleeting but meaningful glances and accidental brushes of skin against skin; in all the _not really _holding hands but_ sort of _holding hands because Frey hasn't moved her hand yet either, so that means something, right?

Yes, he sees the words with perfect clarity sprawled across his ceiling at night when he's just lying there, thinking to himself of all the ways just to get closer than_ this_. The limbo between being friends and actual lovers where their silhouettes have buried themselves.

He's certain that one day they'll get there and it'll be sweeter than any cake or pastry.

**ii.**

"You are an idiot."

Kiel cannot quite find it in himself to be offended, because Leon is usually right about these sorts of things and so instead of arguing he burrows his head into his arms and groans. "I know..." He murmurs, though the words are muffled by the fabric in the sleeves of his sweater.

Leon seems to understand the sentiment, regardless. "'I love cake,' is not really a proper response to a love confession, yet, somehow from you it seems fitting." The Dragon Priest pats Kiel's back with a little too much force, causing the blond to stumble forward and hit his head against the table. "How did Frey react?"

"Ugh," Kiel says miserably, raising his head to rub at the minor wound. "She didn't say anything, just laughed... But she looked kind of sad." Yes, he remembers now. The look on her face greatly resembled that of a freshly sheered Woolie. "Hit me again, Leon. I deserve it."

Leon laughs. "Come on, kid. It could be worse. At least you know she has feelings for you, or at least did before you committed yourself exclusively to confectioneries."

"This isn't funny!"

"You would find it hilarious if it weren't happening to you," Leon points out, and Kiel acknowledges it as a half-truth. He'd probably be spouting this out as this week's latest round of gossip if it weren't so humiliating. _Uuuuuuuurgh. _

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," the silver haired man smiles disarmingly. "You're going to hunt down our dear princess and set her straight."

"I thought _you _would have more of an elaborate plan than that."

"Well, we don't want to frazzle the young lady more than necessary," smirks Leon, as though the thought of teasing Frey might have occurred to him more than once.

"I don't wanna," Kiel whines, tossing his hands up into the air for emphasis. "This is remarkably distressing!"

Leon leans back in his seat, stretching out his palms to rest comfortably at the back of his neck. "It's not a matter of whether you want to or not, kid. Like it or not, you gotta fix this before someone else comes along and sweeps her off her feet and you know it'll happen. And when it_ does_, I sincerely hope it's me."

The idea of Frey with Leon terrifies Kiel more than he's particularly willing to admit. As a result of images of silver haired, green eyed children popping into his mind; all dawning Leon's stupid smirk and blinking with Frey's beautifully long eyelashes, the blond bookworm hops to his feet at once.

"I'll do it!"

**iii.**

"Um, hey."

Frey glances up, looking suitably surprised at his unannounced presence on her tucked away farm. A tentative smile reaches her lips, and he wishes it would appear less insecure. "Hello, Kiel," she replies softly, eyes darkening ever so slightly before she returns to her work diligently.

He stuffs his hands into the pocket of his overcoat and gnaws at his lips nervously. "Mind if I talk at you while you work, maybe?"

"Sure," her answer comes, and she's already turned away and pulling at rouge weeds.

"O-Okay, then. Where do I begin...?" Right, an apology for being the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. That's a good place to start, probably. "Well, I'm sure you'll be glad to know that on a list of things I love, cake actually only ranks as high as number five." _Frey, Forte and his departed family, Selphia, vintage books_ - Is there anything he's forgetting?

The mint haired girl lets out an unattractive snort and stifles a giggle with the back of her hand, but she's still not looking at him. "Oh?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Um. You're pretty high up there too. Just so you know." She turns, and burns him with her eyes that appear to be a little too amused. "In case you were curious or anything."

"Curious or anything," she says in disbelief, finally turning fully to face him and rising to her feet. Frey smiles, all sunshiney and it's the kind that makes his heart beat like the princes' in his stories do when they meet their princess. "I told you I love you, Kiel," she says softly, staring him in the eye while brushing her hands off idly on her knees.

Kiel can feel his face redden. "Yes. And I said that I love cake. Which I _do_, but not more than you, just so we're clear."

She takes his hands, then, and he swears he's absolutely _not_ shaking. She kisses the back of his hand, not unlike the princes usually do, and beams at him while he goes a deeper shade of crimson. "I'm glad."

* * *

**(a/n)** leon makes an appearance for no reason other than to amuse me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

if you get the cake thing reference i'll fist bump you into the next century bruh and fun fact: i had dolce's chapter written when i was putting off writing leon's and now all i need to do is proofread and edit i'm so pumped


	8. marionette

dance, marionette

**i.**

"Hold still."

Frey fidgets. There is very little that is less comfortable than being pried and prodded at with sharp needles, but unfortunately, a fitted gown is required for the next royal meeting Arthur has volunteered her (unwitting) presence for and Frey has half a mind to forcefully get_ him _fitted for a dress.

"Uh, okay. Sorry." Flinch. _Is she doing this on purpose!?_

"Dolly~" sings Pico from somewhere Frey can't see, and she glances downwards to find Dolce sighing with her eyebrows furrowed. "You're so nice to be doing this for Frey!_ Ah _~"

Dolce purses her lips and there's another sharp jab. Frey actually yelps this time. "Shut up, you translucent nuisance. I'm working."

They are gathered in the upper floor of the clinic and the bright eyed princess is pretty sure she can hear Nancy and Jones downstairs doing _who knows what_, and needless to say it doesn't help the situation whatsoever.

"Are we almost done here?" Frey inquires, trying her very hardest not to look as much like a pin cushion as she feels.

"Nearly," replies Dolce in a clipped tone. She stretches out the soft fabric of the skirt so that it reaches the floor. It's a soft blue color and suits Frey's lighthearted appearance fairly well, she thinks.

"Frey actually looks like a princess for once, haha!" Pico squeaks, hands pressed to her cheeks in mock surprise. "But I'm so _jealous~ _Why does Dolly never make _me _such pretty dresses?"

Dolce pulls out a roll of thread and begins threading a new needle all the while glancing at her ghostly companion from the corner of her eye. "You have no need for clothes, you're dead."

It's so harsh that Frey cringes, however Pico doesn't look affected at all. "Ah, you're so mean, Dolly!"

"Um, but she's kind of right." Frey says and immediately back peddles at Dolce's sharp gaze. It isn't very easy to get along with the girl, it's sort of like stepping in between shards of broken glass and expecting to never get cut. "I mean, it's a really pretty dress! So, thanks! For doing this."

Dolce pauses in her work, only for a brief moment, and regards Frey with a strange expression. "...You're welcome."

"Dolly's blushing! Look, _so cute_!"

**ii.**

She can remember it. It's hazy and almost similar to a puzzle that's missing a few pieces out of the original hundred or so, but it's there, forever ingrained in her memory. Dolce wakes up sometimes and goes out at night because she simply can't get the thought of her guardian-self's battle with the somewhat overwhelming Selphian princess out of her mind.

On these walks, she's usually too subdued to bother with telling Pico to be quiet or to pull out a ready made talisman. It's a real problem, to be sure.

When Nancy starts inquiring about her questionable sleep schedule, or lack thereof, Dolce finds herself merely shrugging away the concern, offering only, "I've had a lot to think about."

She likes to think the soft, understanding smile that appears on the nurse's face, in the instant the words are finally out, is not telling of her entire situation and the impossibility of it all.

**iii. **

The next time she assists Frey with fitting a dress, it's sort of a...strange occasion. Her stomach is fluttery and no amount of recovery medicine has served to help in ceasing the motion. It's a real problem because the fluttery feeling is making her hands shake and she's pricking Frey even more than intended.

"Ouch," Frey exclaims but she's still got a small smile on her face, so Dolce figures everything is alright.

"Don't bleed on this dress," Dolce advises, even though she's the one to blame for the fact that Frey's leg, mostly the knee area, has small little pinpricks littering them. _It's important. _

Pico floats out from behind Frey with a huge pout on her face. "You look like a cream puff! Dolly, do you _have _to make Frey look like a pastry?"

"I don't know," remarks Dolce quickly but with no real bite to it. "Do _you _have to be such an annoying presence in my life at all times?"

"Yep~"

Frey giggles behind her hand and Dolce tries to ignore the way her face heats up. How utterly irritating.

"Well, I love this dress," says Frey softly, once her giggling has stopped. Dolce hates how she already misses the sound.

Pathetic.

Pico hums and wraps her translucent arms around Frey happily. "Hey, Dolly, since Frey is technically a princess, does that mean when you get married, you'll be one too? Oooh! Oooh! Can _I_ be a princess too!?"

It's only then that the seamstress reaches for a talisman and Pico let's out a loud squawk before disappearing entirely.

And, she supposes, out of all the outcomes that their first encounter could have wrought - and there are many, many ways that _this_ could have gone terribly wrong _wrong _wrong - that witnessing Frey twirl around in a white dress with soft blue sashes draped across her waist is one of the better.

* * *

**(a/n)** dolce's monster form is my fave but unfortunately i could only mention it in passing for extra pretentious effectiveness


End file.
